A Matter of Love and Death
by GhostOfGamesPast
Summary: Nico DiAngelo and Carey Corazon: neither of which are exactly normal, even by demigod standards. Being the only children of Hades and Aphrodite, both of them are often left feeling alone. Born in the late 20s, Nico struggles with everything he knows about himself, while Carey is still plagued with memories… Will the two be able to hold it together, or will they crumble to a mess?


_"Mom told me, you know…"_

Simple words, really, yet Carey regrets them as soon as he's uttered them; he knows exactly what the other boy is feeling. After all, when you have the exact same fear as somebody, you ought to make sure you're careful with it. But Carey Christopher Corazon has always been outspoken and forward and there is no difference today. "You'd ought to have seen it coming… Eros is technically my brother, you know. Mom knows everything he deals with."

Nico sends the older boy a cold glare, as icy as death itself. With his dark style and pale skin, it's not exactly difficult to peg him as a son of Hades; he looks as if the life has been drained out of it. Carey can't help but wonder if his state is an effect of his words or has always been there. "That's really none of your business," he says, and at once his hateful façade disappears, leaving a shaking, scared boy in front of him.

"It's not something to be ashamed of," he says, putting his arm around the boy, who is currently trembling like a soaked dog. "It's hypocritical, I know, but it's true. You're too young to deal with any of this – you're what, fifteen? Fourteen? – and I can't stand the thought of you saddened because of something my mother caused. It's not fair. Nothing about love is fucking fair."

"I know about you, too, Carey," confesses Nico, pale as a sheet. It's hard for Carey not to notice how fragile he looks, like everything tough about him was whittled away. "The souls of the dead, they talk. I saw Dylan, but there was somebody else too… an angel? He said I'd best not bring him up, but I thought it might be important. He says he's sorry. Should I have stayed quiet?"

But Carey can't answer; he's too busy plagued with the dream – no, the memory – that stalks him every night since his return to Camp Half-Blood from the place where he almost lost his life.

_"Sam!" The words escape Carey's lips, regardless of the dark castle ahead of him or Dylan's arm wrapped around his waist. He smiles when he sees the other boy walking down one of the countless dark corridors. Dylan gives him a confused look, but Carey couldn't care less; somehow, the odds were in his favour and he found him. Sam is here! And then he sees him. There's a frail redheaded boy clinging to Sam's side, shaking and crying. Carey wants to tell himself that it's nothing, just a scared friend of his – that's possible, right? – but Sam is holding on to the boy like Dylan is currently holding on to him, despite the confusion his face is showing. Carey nuzzles his head into Dylan's shoulder; he refuses to let anybody see him cry over a boy. _

_"Carey?" Sam calls, and the boy next to him flinches at his side, evidently frightened by the sword the son of Love is clutching. How tempting it is, to spear his blade through his stomach and get him out of Sam's life, so he can belong to me and only to me. But if he does that, Sam will die too and they'll still be together in Hell – that's where Sam told him he'd been condemned. "Is that you?" he nods, though Samael didn't need to see that to have his question answered; he smiled before the other boy actually moved. That smile of his – yes, the little crooked one that means he's up to no good – …Carey hates it. Because the no-good he's up is clearly that little redhead slut. Carey hates him too. "I was so worried I'd lost you!" _

_"You did." _

_It's a simple sentence in theory – not even a sentence, a mere two words – but it feels almost impossible to say, especially once Carey sees the pained look in his eyes. Did he cause that? Is it selfish to hope he did, to want to know that even though he mistrusted the wrong lover, Carey still made him suffer more than he suffered? If so, he frankly doesn't give a shit. "I'm sorry, I was stupid," he says, and Carey raises an eyebrow. Stupid was when he trusted him, not when he was stabbed in the back. That was clever and cold on Sam's part. "I promise, Erik is just a friend; he's taken, for Heaven's sake! I love you." _

_"Well, you have to die for me to live anyways," Carey replies, standing up just so he can stomp his foot. It's childish, but he couldn't care less. Is this really him, speaking? He feels almost detached right now, like a spirit currently possesses him, replacing him with somebody who's smart and makes the right choice instead of letting their heart lead their decisions. __**Ma, are you watching right now?**__ he thinks, but there's no reply. Aphrodite had once told her son that she liked her love stories to be interesting, full of twists and turns… is this interesting enough for her? __**Are you satisfied, Ma?**__ "Just forgive me, please," Sam says, as he puts both his hands on his shoulders, leaning in to put his lips on Carey's. _

_"Don't fucking touch me!" Carey hisses, pushing the fallen angel off him. He stumbles backwards a bit, right into the corridor in front of Carey. Spears just out the wall and impale themselves in Sam's chest. His body falls to the ground, a cannon booms, the redheaded boy falls, and just like that, one of the only people he ever loved is out of this world: accidental murder. _

_The murder of his angel._

"Gods, I'm so sorry," says Nico, his gut twisting as he notices the teardrops running down Carey's cheeks. Yet before he can continue to talk, he too begins to choke on his words a bit as none other than Camp's two biggest heroes pass by: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase. "It must suck to lose the one you love."

"I won't deny that," says the older boy, slowly easing a soft smile onto his face, willing it to be reassuring, but looking nostalgic instead. "Though it can't be wonderful to see the person you care about right under your nose every day and know it'll never happen."

"I guess we both have a slightly twisted love life," says Carey, and the two of them chuckle a little, still sat on the grassy hill. From there, they can see the entire camp, from the volleyball courts covered in the children of Apollo all the way to the naiads' canoe river. "Mom would just adore it; she likes twists and turns."

"Between you and I, she's still much better than Eros," Nico jokes, and the two of them find themselves smiling, yet there's an uneasiness of sorts in the air hanging over their heads. "You know what else your mother would love?" he asks, and Carey shakes his head. But he can't quite cast aside the feeling of unexplainable happiness inside him.

And then they kiss.


End file.
